


Serving

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Dominance, Human Furniture, M/M, Minor Violence, Sibling Incest, Submission, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rabastan has fallen out of favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serving

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> Gift for Gamma_x_orionis.

Rabastan’s climbing to his knees before the Dark Lord’s fingers even snap, and he crawls beneath his lord’s raised legs. The Dark Lord drops them heavily atop Rabastan’s back, and Rabastan grunts but stays put. Severus keeps talking as though he never saw this, and frankly, Rabastan can’t blame him.

Before Rabastan, when it was Lucius Malfoy out of favour, Rabastan would also look away when Lucius ‘served his master.’ They all serve their master, but the least favoured must pick up certain extra duties, that only the most loyal would still do without reservation. Rabastan is a loyal servant, and he swore to serve his master, whatever his master should wish of him. Right now his master would like him to be a footstool, so Rabastan is a footstool.

A naked footstool. Because robes are for Death Eaters fighting the Order. Skin is the uniform of the Dark Lord’s current attendant, and Rabastan doesn’t question this logic. He hangs his head and tunes out the words above him—by the time he’s back to fighting, the current mission will be over with, and Severus never shares his missions anyway. Rabastan only looks up when he hears familiar footsteps heading across the room. Rabastan could recognize Rodolphus a mile away and does.

Rodolphus soundlessly hands the Dark Lord a teacup, and the Dark Lord takes it. He takes one sip before removing his feet from Rabastan’s back—giving Rabastan a brief chance to breathe—and he places the cup down instead. Rabastan grits his teeth at the warm porcelain, which feels a little too close to burning his skin for comfort. Not that Rabastan ever cared much for _comfort_. Rodolphus stays standing at the side of the couch, hands behind his back, awaiting further instructions.

Rabastan risks a glance up at his older brother, who’s watching him levelly. Rodolphus never looks away when Rabastan’s punished. Those dark eyes aren’t exactly reassuring, but they aren’t frightening either. Rodolphus always holds a strange warmth for Rabastan, coupled with an unnatural hunger and too much concentration. Rodolphus still doesn’t look away when Severus turns to leave, and the Dark Lord, thankfully, picks the cup back up. Rabastan is sure there’s a red ring on his back, and he almost yelps when the Dark Lord’s feet land on him again. The Dark Lord’s heel digs into where the ring might be, and it aches.

The Dark Lord languidly sips at his tea, before musing into the silent, otherwise empty room, “Would you like to please your master, Rabastan?” His voice sounds as though it couldn’t care less what Rabastan says, but Rabastan still hurries to nod. He knows what ‘please’ means—and that’s something he’s always keen to do. Warming the Dark Lord’s bed, in any form, is a great honour. Surely not one he thought he’d get while his current status is somewhere between a pet and furniture.

The Dark Lord chuckles at his eagerness and snaps his fingers. Rabastan looks up to see the Dark Lord gesture—just not at him.

Rodolphus slowly begins to strip of his robes, and Rabastan nervously whines, “My lord—”

The Dark Lord kicks him hard in the shoulder, and Rabastan almost topples over, whimpering like a wounded dog. He can’t help it; he watches Rodolphus undress, with a mixture of sadness and longing. He isn’t sure which is worse—someone else getting to please their master when he could be returning to favour, or someone else getting to bed Rodolphus. It’s bad enough knowing that Black harpy gets his beloved brother, let alone having to _watch_... Rabastan looks away with a grimace as Rodolphus, gloriously naked and handsomely barred to the world, climbs onto the couch.

“Rabastan,” the Dark Lord purrs, as his claw-like hands steady Rodolphus against his lap, thighs open and to either side, facing forward. Rodolphus’ back is flush against the Dark Lord’s stomach, and he lazily demands, “You will watch as your brother—a far better and more loyal servant than you—gets the honour of fucking himself on my cock.” Rabastan shivers but doesn’t look away. “When he comes, you’ll make sure to catch it all in your mouth, and if any of it hits the floor, you’ll lick it up, along with any other cum that joins it when I milk Lucius tonight. Do you understand?”

Rabastan nods and wonders, if he’s good enough, perhaps the Dark Lord will let him kneel between their spread legs and suck his brother off while the Dark Lord fucks him ragged.


End file.
